Snail Mail
by angelus cado
Summary: Hermione and Andrew have been pen pals since the age of nine. When they are twenty-four, they finally get the chance to meet. What will happen? And how will their friends react? (post S7 & post Hogwarts)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Harry and his crew belong to JK Rowling; Buffy and the Scoobs are property of Joss Whedon. I am making no money from this, so PLEASE don't sue me.

**Summary: **Hermione has a pen pal from Sunnydale, California, and assumes that he's normal. Andrew has a pen pal from London, England, and she's about as strange as they come; only he doesn't know it. What happens when they meet and share their stories?

**A/N: **This is my first BtVS/HP crossover ever. I've read my fair share, and one thing I didn't see much of was Andrew-fics. I think the guy is adorable, in his own comic-book geek, sci-fi freak way. Xander, Willow, Buffy, Andrew, Harry, Ron and Hermione are in the 23/24 age area. I'd appreciate praise and constructive criticism; flames will be used to toast marshmallows.

**Snail Mail**

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger sighed as she flopped onto her couch as if boneless. She'd had a hard day at work in Research and Development at the Ministry, and all she wanted to do was take a nice long soak in the tub and go straight to bed. However, before she could do that, she had to sort through her mail. She picked up the pile of letters that had been dropped into her mailbox earlier, muttering to herself as she flipped through them.

"Bill…bill…note from the super…junk…junk…death threat from the neighbors…bill…"

She got to the bottom of the pile, and her eyes widened when she saw who the last missive was from. _Oh crap, _she thought. _Maybe I should have written him back sooner._ Gingerly, she tore open the plain envelope and took out the ordinary lined paper. Well, it would have been ordinary if it hadn't been crammed with frenzied writing.

_Hermione,_

_Why haven't you phoned? Why haven't you written? Why haven't you given me any indication that you're alive and breathing? Don't you love me anymore? pouts_

_I'm sick with worry, you know…I'm beginning to think our little tryst doesn't matter anymore. Fifteen years, Hermione…fifteen years and not even a good-bye? How could you!_

Hermione could only laugh at this; she knew Andrew was being overdramatic, he always was. He'd always exaggerate things; when he told her about his prom, she had laughed for days, causing Ron and Harry to call her nutters. Seriously, who could think up flying monkeys crashing a prom?

_I've half a mind to stop writing to you, you know. Don't you care about what's happening in my life? I mean, I know it's not as interesting as graduating at the top of your class, being valedictorian and whatnot, but you could at least pretend to be interested. Aren't you worried about my traumatizing experience of losing my best friend?_

Hermione couldn't help but feel bad. She had a pretty good reason why she hadn't been writing, but it wasn't one she could tell her obviously Muggle pen pal. Only a few months ago, Harry had defeated Voldemort once and for all, after being hunted by the monster for twenty some-odd years. The turmoil finally over, they could settle down into a semblance of normal life. Well, as normal as a witch or wizard could get.

Harry and Ron both played professional Quidditch with Puddlemere United. It was almost like a reunion of sorts; Oliver Wood was captain, Harry played Seeker and Ron played chaser and reserve Keeper. Because of their busy schedules, Hermione rarely saw them anymore, but whenever they were in town, they got together for a couple of drinks.

Hermione, to no one's surprise, worked at the Ministry, in Research and Development in the Experimental Charms division. She was hired for her brains, but for the most part she was performing menial tasks like fetching coffee and files for the higher-ups. Rather dull work, but you had to start out somewhere, right?

Snapping out of her musings, Hermione turned back to the letter in her hand. She outright laughed out loud when she read the next part.

_I bet you've stopped reading by now. Typical, typical Hermione…can't find anything of interest, so you leave poor 'ickle me out in the cold. How could you, Hermione, how could you?_

_Anyway, moving along…I finally moved out of my 'lair' and I am now living with a bunch of people in Cleveland. I don't know if you heard, but Sunnydale is no more. Gas leak…really, really big gas leak. The town council wasn't so up on that, and it could have cost us our lives. What would you have done without me, Hermione? Could you have continued on without my companionship, even though I live on the other side of the planet?_

_Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, PLEASE write me back, I don't know how I could bear it any longer. I want to know how you're doing; I want to see your tiny cramped writing. I want to smell your perfume on the paper…_

_Until later, my love._

_Your traumatized knight,_

_Andrew_

_xoxo_

Just as Hermione was folding the letter, someone apparated in front of her with a soft _pop. _She screamed slightly, but when she saw who it was, she smacked the smugly smirking man on the arm.

"Harry James Potter!" she exclaimed. "How many times have I told you not to do that?"

"Not enough, apparently," Harry replied with a grin. He saw the letter in her hand. "What's that you've got there, Hermione?"

"It's nothing," Hermione replied, hiding the letter behind her back. Unfortunately, she hadn't counted on Ron being behind her, in perfect position to snatch the letter.

"Oh Merlin, she's writing to that ponce _again_," Ron said with a grimace.

"Krum or Wells?" Harry asked, going over to Ron and reading over his shoulder.

"Wells," Ron replied. He waved the letter in front of the other man's face. "Look at this thing! It's full of sentimental crap and weepy love declarations."

Hermione was quick for someone who didn't do sports, and she snatched the letter back from her redheaded best friend. She glared at the two of them, and they mock-cowered.

"I write to him because I believe in keeping ties with almost every friendly face I meet," Hermione replied. "I've known Andrew longer than I've known you two, you know. If given the opportunity, I'd choose him over you. However, I've never gotten mad enough at either of you, so that opportunity hasn't come up as of yet. So, if you two don't mind, I'm going to write Andrew back before he decides to hop on a plane to Heathrow to look for me."

With a huff, Hermione turned and headed towards her study, leaving Ron and Harry in the sitting room.

"Mental, that one," said Ron.

"You're telling me," agreed Harry.

OoOoOo

Andrew Wells stood next to the mailbox in front of the house he shared with five other people, when they weren't out and about, traveling the world. It was a huge house, paid for by the Watcher's Council funds, and there was enough room for all of them, and plenty to spare if anyone had the urge to visit. More than once, Andrew had wondered where Hermione would stay if she ever had the inkling to visit.

He couldn't ponder much longer, because at that moment he saw the mailman at the other end of the block. Trying not to look like an overexcited puppy and failing miserably, Andrew waited for the postman to come to his box.

Meanwhile, inside the house, the occupants that were there were watching Andrew and his slightly odd behavior. The ones at the house that day were Xander, Willow, Dawn and Faith, the latter visiting from her travels with Robin.

"What the hell is he doing?" asked Faith, who hadn't been around for the last week or so.

"Waiting, obviously," Xander replied. "Though for what, I'm not sure."

"It's a letter, Xander," Dawn replied. "He's waiting for a letter from his British pen pal."

The other three people stared at her as if she had grown an extra head or had just morphed into a mucus demon.

"How do you know that?" asked Willow. "Because it looks to me like he's about to pee his pants."

"He told me, that's how," Dawn replied matter-of-factly. "I know you guys think he's annoying, and he knows that you think that…"

"Then why doesn't he move out?" asked Xander, cutting the younger girl off. "Or at least, couldn't he move out of the basement? I claimed it, after all!"

"You're whining, Xander," Willow said.

"If you guys would let me finish," Dawn said, sighing exasperatedly and rolling her eyes. "Andrew lives here with us because, besides his pen pal, we're the only people in this world who have even shown him a modicum of kindness. He's known this girl since he was nine years old, and by the look of it is his only friend."

They were interrupted by an excited yell. Turning back to the window, they saw Andrew jumping up and down like a kid who had had one too many candies, holding a letter. The mailman shook his head and continued on his route as Andrew ran up to the house and burst through the door.

"It came…it finally came…" he muttered in glee, tearing open the envelope as he ignored everyone else. He unfolded the paper and read it, muttering under his breath as he scanned the tiny script.

_Dear Andrew,_

_Dear God, could you be any clingier? I've been busy settling into my new job. Besides, it's not like you've been prolific with the letter-writing. Practice what you preach, Drew._

_I can see that kicked puppy expression now. I'm joking, okay? You know how much I adore you, even if you are a little on the overdramatic side. winks Ron and Harry still refer to you as 'that ponce'. I've told you about Ron and Harry haven't I? They don't agree with our friendship, but they know about it. However, when I told them that I'd choose you over them if I could, they shut up about it._

_Big gas leak, eh? You mean there's such a thing as a BIGGER gas leak than the one that blew up your high school at graduation? I'm surprised that no one got hurt. You're okay, right? Of course you are; you wouldn't have been writing to me if you weren't okay._

_So Cleveland, eh? What caused you to move there? It's a bit different from California, isn't it? Colder for one. Darker for another. Of course, it has nothing on Scotland in the middle of winter, but it's something you're not used to, isn't it? Besides, who are these people you moved with? I hope they aren't loonies like the last people you lived with. Yes, I know Jonathan and Warren were your best friends, but I still think they were a bad influence on you._

_Anyway, to the point of this letter. Yes, there is a point. I've been thinking—scary prospect, I know. But anyway, we've known each other for over fifteen years, and yet we've never met. So, I propose that we meet. I'll even pay for your airfare if you can't manage it. I don't need an answer just yet; think about it and talk it over with your friends. If it isn't the right time, then I completely understand. _

_Just…think about it, okay? I'd like to discuss the merits of Deanna Troi and Commander Richer's relationship in person for a change, with someone who knows what the bloody hell I'm talking about._

_Sending even more love,_

_Hermione_

_P.S.-I know you save all of my letters in a shoe box under your bed, so don't you dare say you only wanted me to write because you wanted to smell my perfume!_

Andrew read the letter three more times, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. She wanted him to visit her? In _England? _They'd talked about visiting before, but Hermione couldn't in previous times because she went to some prestigious boarding school in the Scottish highlands. They had almost met after she had graduated, but then her parents died in a tragic car accident and she didn't feel right taking a trip so soon afterwards. Now, however, they might be able to pull it off…

With a grin, Andrew bounded down the stairs to the basement, which he shared with Xander. The foursome that had been watching him just looked at each other in bewilderment.

"What's gotten into him?" wondered Xander.

**OoOoOo**

**So, should I keep going or should I never ever write another piece of fiction again? You guys be the judge.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **No, this isn't mine. Andrew Wells and the Buffy crew are the brainchild of Joss Whedon and Hermione Granger and Harry's posse are JK Rowling's idea. Those two are my gods…

**Summary: **Hermione and Andrew have been pen pals for 15 years. What happens when they meet? And what will their friends think of it? (Post S7 and post Hogwarts)

**A/N: **I am so happy right now. Within an hour of posting this, I got reviews. I didn't think I was being original…Anyway, thanks to my reviewers, you guys rock my socks!

This chapter goes out to James, because he asked me to dedicate something to him. Sorry it's not porn, but it'll have to do.

**Snail Mail**

Chapter 2

"So, has the ponce written back yet?" asked Ron about three weeks after Hermione had sent off her letter to Andrew.

"No," she replied, acting in a way that could only be described as pouting. "And don't call him that; you know it bothers me."

"Maybe that's why we do it," Harry replied. "Besides, what's gotten you so worked up about this letter? You're never like this whenever Andrew has to reply."

"Nothing's gotten me worked up, as you so delicately put it," Hermione replied quickly. However, she was quite nervous, and it was so obvious that even her friends—who were blind to everything except for blonde bimbos and Quidditch—could see it. "I'm fine, really; there's nothing to worry about."

"Well, if you're sure," said Harry, looking apprehensive. He knew what stress could do to people, and if Hermione got too stressed, it was obvious she was going to implode.

"I'm _fine_," Hermione emphasized. "Now go, go, before Wood has your arses on a platter for missing practice."

"Okay, okay, we're going, we're going," said Ron.

"But you know you can come to us if something's bothering you, right?" added Harry.

"Yes, I know I can come to you guys if I have something to talk about," Hermione conceded. "Now get out of here before Wood has _my _arse on a platter for making you late."

With grins and waves, Ron and Harry Apparated out of the apartment. It was then, and only then, that Hermione groaned and buried her face in her hands. She was beginning to think she was a little rash when she had asked Andrew to visit. She'd probably completely freaked him out to the point where he'd never wanted to speak to her again. Well, write to her…

Since she hadn't checked her mail that day, Hermione left her apartment and went downstairs to the post area. There, she unlocked her mailbox, and to her surprise there was only one letter in it. She recognized the handwriting instantly, and she bolted back up to her apartment in a haste to read it.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Yes, I know I haven't been writing either; you don't need to rub it in, you know. I've been busy as well; the last time I wrote to you was just before we found out about the leak, and we had to get out of town. I don't know why my friends chose Cleveland, but I went with them because I had no where else to go. Not exactly the best plan; they aren't exactly my friends, more like people I went to high school with. The only one that talks to me without barely-veiled annoyance is Dawn, but she's at school most of the time so I don't get to talk to her much._

_What the heck is a ponce, I wonder? It doesn't sound good, judging by your tone. Why don't they like me? Are they jealous because they think I'm going to horn in on their territory? Because if those two are anything like you described, then stealing you away is hardly worth it. Darn those dastardly friends who don't recognize your brilliance!_

_I think that visiting is a good idea, even if all I want to do is convince you to watch Star Wars. Or even read the books. I know how much you prefer literature to movies. I'd have no problem securing funds for a ticket; one of the people I live with (he's kinda the father-figure of the house) came into a rather large inheritance recently and he's been sharing it with all of us. Since I don't have a job (the prospects for a sci-fi computer geek are slim, surprisingly), I can come anytime. What's best for you?_

_Reply back as soon as you can!_

_Love,_

_Andrew_

_P.S.—Enclosed is a recent photograph of yours truly. I know you need to change the one that you keep on your nightstand. winks_

Hermione took out the photo, wondering what to expect. When she looked at it, she saw that he hadn't changed much. Still short (but seemingly not as short as her), still skinny and still blond. He was smiling innocently at the camera, his boyish geekiness screaming at her even from a photograph. He was cute, in a way, and she was definitely looking forward to finally meeting him.

She scanned the letter one more time, making sure that she had read it right. Hermione had expected to go back and forth for a while before Andrew had even considered coming to England, so it came as a surprise when he agreed so readily. It was a pleasant surprise, but still a surprise.

With a happy smile, Hermione began penning her newest missive to her geeky but strangely adorable pen pal.

OoOoOo

Andrew had been walking on a cloud in the weeks following the arrival of Hermione's letter, and no one could figure out why. Well, it was more like no one cared to figure out why. As long as he didn't pester anyone, then they left him to his own devices.

About a month later another letter arrived, and while Andrew wasn't quite as worked up as the last one, he was still pretty excited. Everyone stayed clear of the high-strung geek, even if it was to avoid hearing him wax poetic about his pen pal.

Andrew greedily opened the letter as he sat on his bed down in the basement, his eyes skipping over the tiny script excitedly. Xander just shook his head as he left the room and headed upstairs.

_Andrew,_

_A ponce is a rather effeminate male. You're right in the fact that it's not good; at least, I don't like it when Harry and Ron call people that. They're rather overprotective of me, and they don't like it when they're excluded from my relationships. They were like this when I still wrote to Viktor after my fourth year. However, that relationship was a bust when I found out that he was already engaged and was just stringing me along. Harry and Ron don't know that yet, because I love annoying them so._

_You'll be proud of me, though; I've watched a few Star Wars movies, a few being episodes four, five, six and one. What I don't understand is why George Lucas made the middle three in the 1970's, and is just now getting around to making the first three. However, I am still a die-hard Star Trek fan; at least in Star Trek there aren't any hints of incest. Luke and Leia…eww!_

_As for visiting, I hadn't expected you to agree to it so readily; I mean, we haven't been in contact for months, and I just dropped the bomb on you. If anything, I expected you to say I was being too pushy. I've been accused of that, and I didn't want to come off that way. Anyway, I have some vacation time coming up in a few weeks. If that's too short notice, I could probably get my supervisor to push it back a couple more weeks so that you can make your arrangements in time. Since it'll take too long for you to write back, I've enclosed my phone number at the bottom of the page. You have to remember, I'm five hours ahead of you. Don't phone after five o' clock your time, and you should be fine. _

_Best wishes,_

_Hermione_

_P.S.—True to form, I have also enclosed a recent photograph. Unfortunately, I couldn't find one with me all by my lonesome, so you get to see me with my two best friends. Hopefully that doesn't detract from the experience._

Andrew then noticed the piece of paper that had fallen onto his bed when he opened his letter. He snatched it up and turned it over. He didn't care what she looked like; she could be a seven-foot gorilla woman with too much body hair and a thing for stilettos. However, that definitely wasn't the case.

Hermione was sandwiched between two males, a red haired guy and a black haired guy. They had their arms slung around Hermione's shoulders and all three of them were smiling goofily at the camera. However, Hermione was the only one Andrew was interested in. She was shorter than both of her companions, coming up to Harry's nose and Ron's shoulder. Her bushy hair was pulled back from her face in a poofy ponytail, giving her the appearance of someone five years younger. The freckles across her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes added to that.

In Andrew's eyes, she was perfect.

Quickly, he checked his watch; it was two o'clock in the afternoon. Doing some quick math, he found out that it was seven o'clock at night in London. It was Friday, and Andrew hoped she hadn't gone out or something. Grabbing the cordless phone next to Xander's bed, Andrew dialed the overseas number with shaking hands. Four rings later, someone picked up.

"Hello, city morgue, you stab 'em we slab 'em."

It was a male voice, and Andrew's heart fell slightly until he heard something in the background.

"Harry, what have I told you about answering my phone!" a shrill female's voice cut through. There was the sound of a struggle, and a triumphant yell from the girl.

"Hi there, sorry about that," she said.

"Uh, hi," said Andrew, slightly nervous. "This wouldn't be Hermione Granger by any chance, would it? Because knowing my luck, I probably dialed the wrong number."

"Yes, this is Hermione," the woman replied. Andrew sighed in relief. "What can I help you with?"

"Oh, right, that," said Andrew. "It's me, Andrew. You know, your pen pal."

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Andrew didn't like the heavy feeling that was settling on his stomach. _Maybe I should just hang up now and avoid further embarrassment, _he thought.

"Uh, is this a bad time?" he asked. "Because if it is, I can call back later if you want. It sounded like you were busy anyway."

"No, no, no, it's not like that at all," Hermione replied. "I was just a little surprised, that's all. Besides, Harry was just leaving, weren't you Harry?"

Andrew heard something in the background that sounded like, "Yeah, yeah, I'm going I'm going," and then a door slamming.

"Sorry about that, but he needed to get his mail from when he was out of town," Hermione explained. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Er…well…that is to say," Andrew stammered, not really sure what else to say. He hadn't had much of a plan of what he wanted to talk about; he was just eager to talk to Hermione, to hear her voice. "I was thinking we could…maybe talk about the trans-Atlantic flight I might be taking within a couple of weeks?"

"Oh right, that," Hermione said, and Andrew again felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. It sounded as if she didn't want him to come after all, until her next statement. "When do you think you'll be able to make the flight? I know I have vacation time, two weeks in fact, coming up on the ninth of next month. I know it is a little short notice, but I could probably get it pushed back a week or two. One of my co-workers wanted to switch with me anyway…"

"Hermione, shush," Andrew said, stemming her flow of words. Hermione's end of the line went silent. "It shouldn't be a problem. Knowing the people I live with, they probably can't wait to get rid of me."

"Well, if you're sure…" Hermione began, trailing off slightly.

"Yes, I'm sure Hermione," Andrew said firmly. Just then, Xander came back down the stairs. He looked at Andrew curiously, and the smaller man just glared at him.

"Who are you talking to?" Xander asked as he rummaged around in his underwear drawer. "I mean, who would willingly talk to you?"

"Shut up Xander," Andrew shot back.

"Oh yeah, that's real mature," Xander retorted. "Don't take too long, I'm waiting for a phone call."

"Okay, I won't," Andrew shot back as Xander ascended the stairs again.

"And that would be…?" asked Hermione, sounding curious.

"That would be my lair-mate, Xander," Andrew replied.

"Lair mate…?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, we share the basement," Andrew replied. "They don't trust him with all the nubile young girls upstairs."

"Uh…huh," said Hermione. "He sounds rather…er…"

"You can say he's a festering jerk, I don't mind," Andrew replied. "In fact, I'd probably agree with you."

"I'm not going to make judgments on people before I even meet them," Hermione replied. "I know how much it hurts, and I'd rather not put anyone else through it."

"Well, suit yourself," Andrew replied. At that moment Xander thundered down the stairs again.

"Look, twerp, I said get off the phone," he said. Andrew rolled his eyes at him.

"Look, Hermione, I have to go," he said, rather regretfully. "I'll call you back later, if you like."

"Sure, sounds great," replied Hermione. "'Bye Andrew, talk to you soon."

"Bye Hermione," Andrew echoed before the line went dead. He turned off the phone and handed it to Xander. "There, happy now?"

"Thanks muchly," Xander replied with a grin, taking the phone and dialing a number on it. With a sigh, Andrew got up off of his bed in search for something to eat, Xander's laughter echoing up the stairs.

OoOoOoOo

**Okay, here's chapter 2. I know it's not great, but I have plans for the next one. Don't forget to review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I lay no claim to the characters within; I only own the plot. I will put the toys back in the toy box when I'm done…though I might keep Andrew for myself.**

**Author's note: I'm so, so sorry this took so long. I guess with everything else in life, this one got lost in the shuffle. Here's the next chapter, it's shorter than usual, but the next few chapters should be longer.**

**This is dedicated to Steph; if it weren't for her, this update might not have happened.**

Snail Mail—Chapter 3

Andrew gulped nervously as Giles paced in front of the assembled group, the phone bill in his hand. He had a pretty good idea what had caused the former librarian to call a house meeting, and he was scared out of his wits.

"Can any of you tell me why there is an unauthorized phone call the United Kingdom?" Giles asked, brandishing the phone bill about. "I know exactly which numbers I called, so don't you dare tell me I'm blowing this out of proportion. I don't even know an 'H. Granger'."

With that, Andrew sunk lower in the chair he was sitting in. However, the problem with trying to hide is that you are usually found out quicker; almost everyone knows that. In this case, it was Faith that ratted Andrew out.

"Hey G-man, it looks like the dweeb has somethin' to hide," she said. Giles pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed exasperatedly.

"Why must you call me that infernal nickname?" he asked, taking off his glasses and cleaning them.

"'Cuz we like annoying you, that's why," Faith replied with a shrug, as if it were obvious. "Besides, the dweeb is hiding somethin'; shouldn't that be your priority?"

"Andrew, do you know something about this?" asked Giles. Everyone in the room looked at the small, fidgety blond man and it was only a matter of moments before he cracked.

"Alright, fine, it was me!" exclaimed Andrew. "I made the phone call so that I could talk to my pen pal because letter writing takes too long. I didn't know it was going to cost so much; if I did, I would have…"

"Calm down, Andrew!" said Giles firmly, sighing in exasperation. "I'm not angry with you; I just wish you'd give me more notice when you make transatlantic phone calls."

"Umm…okay, I will then, Mr. Giles," Andrew promised. He chewed on his lip nervously, wondering if he should go through with his request. Making up his mind, in one breath he added. "Can I phone her back, then? It's just that it's been a while since I've talked to her and I promised that I'd phone back within a couple of days."

"I'm just curious, but how much do you know about this girl?" asked Giles. "How long have you known her?"

"Well, we've been pen pals since the age of nine," Andrew replied. "Her name is Hermione Granger, she lives in England and she's twenty four, like me. She is a Star Trek and Lord of the Rings fan, and before she met me she wouldn't touch anything related to Star Wars or Babylon Five with a ten foot pole whilst wearing a radiation suit. I think I might be cracking her resolve, though; it's quite exciting."

"And does she know anything about the abnormalities of the Hellmouth?" asked Giles.

"I may have let some stuff slip," Andrew replied, ducking his head. Everyone glared at him with varying degrees of severity. "What? She thinks I'm a little off anyway. Overactive imagination and everything. She says she'd be friends with me even without the outlandish stories, but I think she likes the cloth of fantasy I weave with every letter."

"How outlandish are we talking here?" asked Buffy, speaking up for the first time.

"I might have mentioned something about the flying monkeys," Andrew replied, still sheepish. "And Tucker's hellhounds, but that's it, I swear! No vampires, no slayage and no evil Andrew. In her eyes, I am as innocent as the young Anakin."

"And the fact that Anakin becomes Darth Vader is lost on her how…?" asked Xander.

"I told you, she doesn't know anything about Star Wars," Andrew replied. "She says it's 'campy' and 'cheesy'."

"Sacrilege! How can you associate with such a person?" exclaimed Xander, clutching a hand over his heart and pretending to collapse. Willow flicked him on the side of the head, causing him to sit up again, rubbing his head. "Ow, Wills, that hurt."

"Then quit being an overdramatic drama queen," Willow retorted, her eyes sparkling with laughter. The banter was lightening the mood of the room, and Andrew relaxed as the discussion was taken away from him.

"That's drama _king _to you," Xander shot back, puffing out his chest importantly. "And don't you forget it, missy." Willow poked him in the ribs, causing him to deflate and flop back on to the couch.

"Ummm, guys?" asked Andrew. Everyone stopped goofing around and set their attention to Andrew, which made him shift nervously in his seat. "Would it be alright if I phoned Hermione? I promise to pay back the phone bill and stuff; I just want to hear that beautiful voice of hers."

"Of course, of course," Giles said, waving his hand in dismissal. Andrew got up and dashed down the stairs to his and Xander's room without another word, causing everyone to stare at the spot that had moments before held Andrew.

"Huh, I didn't know he could move that fast," remarked Faith after a minute.

"He's got it bad," Buffy agreed, causing everyone to crack up.

OoOoOoOo

Hermione had just settled down on her sofa for a movie night with Ron and Harry when the phone rang. She set the bowl of popcorn aside and made a mad dash to the phone in an attempt to get to it before Harry did. However, she was too late.

"Pool hall," Harry greeted, throwing a mischievous grin over his shoulder at Hermione. She snatched the phone away from her dark haired best friend, glaring at him all the while.

"What is it with your obsession with my phone?" she asked, placing her hand over the mouthpiece.

"I never got to answer the phone at the Dursley's, so this is my chance to catch up," Harry replied with a shrug. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him as he left the room before taking up the phone.

"Sorry about that," she apologized. "Granger residence, Hermione speaking."

"Hi Hermione," said the familiar voice at the other end of the line. Hermione's heart leapt when she heard that voice. "It's me, Andrew. I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time."

"No, no you haven't," Hermione replied, cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she tried to find the bags of crisps she had bought earlier. "Chaos is routine around here. Just a movie night with my boys, but I can still talk on the phone."

"Ah," said Andrew, sounding vaguely like Yoda. "So, who was that? Harry or Ron?"

"That would have been the more insane of the two. Harry," she clarified, placing the junk food on the table before reclaiming her spot on the couch.

"Who's she talking to?" asked Ron in a stage whisper.

"I don't know, why don't you ask her?" Harry whispered back.

"I'm talking to Andrew," Hermione said, moving the mouthpiece out of the way before concentrating on her conversation again.

"I see," Andrew had been saying. "What movie are you planning on watching?"

"I don't know yet; the guys picked it out," Hermione replied. Just then, the first streams of the _Star Wars _theme came out of the speakers, causing Hermione to groan.

"Which one is it?" asked Andrew, obviously having heard the theme music.

"The Phantom Menace," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes even though Andrew couldn't see it. "I've seen this one; why didn't they just rent _Attack of the Clones _and be done with it? There's only so much Star Wars I can take!"

"We're preparing you for what is to come, young Padawan," said Ron in a mystical voice, causing Hermione to hurl a pillow at him. "Hey, when did you get an arm like that? Have you been hanging around Ginny again?"

Hermione could hear Andrew laughing on the other end of the phone. She glared at her friends before turning her attention back to her phone.

"And what, pray tell, is so funny Drew?" she asked, her voice sugary sweet.

"Your friends remind me of my own fellowship, that's all," Andrew replied. "All jokes and teasing with a level of violence. It's enchanting, really."

Before Hermione could answer, the pillow was flung back at her, hitting her in the head. She glared at Ron, who now looked like a toned down version of his twin brothers when they were plotting something.

"Andrew, I'm really sorry to do this to you, but I have to go," she said, her gaze not leaving Ron's. "I have a best friend to kill. I'll phone you tomorrow, when these two dingbats aren't around."

"Well, okay," said Andrew, and Hermione felt very bad when she heard his dejected tone. "You have my phone number, right?"

"Speed dial, third setting right behind Harry and Ron," Hermione replied. Another pillow sailed by her head, and Hermione could tell that the Terrible Twosome were planning on throwing another if she didn't hurry up and get off the phone. "And now I _really _need to go. Tomorrow, okay?"

"Tomorrow," Andrew agreed with a note of hopefulness in his voice.

"Bye then," she signed off. Andrew did the same, and Hermione clicked off the phone. "Oh, it's on now!"

She grabbed a pillow and started pummeling her two friends, the movie completely forgotten for the time being.

OoOoOoOo

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